Antartica
by nichelle.hp
Summary: James isn't good at much when it comes to Lily. Especially proprosing. And somehow, Snape helps fix it all.


_**Disclaimer**: JKR is God. I am not._

_**Challenge**: Lily/James, Snape angst, post-Hogwarts, pre-Harry, using the words shuffled, improvising, ANTARCTICA?, WOAH, bubbly, museum, lady, nasturtiums, ancient, parable. For Becca. 3 Accepting new challenges all the time!_

He had asked her to marry him. And it was terrible.

Lily Evans had dreamed of her perfect proposal for years. She normally wasn't giggly and girly and romantic at all, until she began to daydream. Her tall, faceless hero would bend on one knee and present her with a sparkly diamond, or else place the ring in her glass of bubbly champagne. Her eyes would well up as she listened to his speech about how much he wanted her to be his. She would sob a "yes" and fall into his arms. A classic parable of true love.

And that rotten Potter tore her dream to pieces.

They'd being rowing, faces strawberry-red, standing at opposite ends of their tiny flat – Lily in the bedroom and James in the kitchen. After a particularly nasty incident involving a pot of nasturtiums, James' forehead and a good deal of blood, they conceded that it was best for them to fight in different rooms.

"I need to know that you aren't going to run off with the goddamned Chudley Cannons when I've got my back turned!" Lily screeched, her wand slashing through the air haphazardly as she directed clothing and personal items pell-mell into a large suitcase. Though she couldn't see him, she knew James would be pacing across their linoleum kitchen floor, pulling at his hair.

"Jesus, Lily, I'm not Sirius! You can trust me, you know!"

"Bollocks!" Lily's voice cracked. She mended the lamp she accidentally smashed with a stiletto. "You're just like you were when you were fifteen – unreliable and flippant. I can't live my life on your word alone, James!"

"Meaning what?"

"Meaning you won't treat anything like what it is! You won't even introduce me as your girlfriend!"

"Oh, the commitment talk again, is it?"

"Yes, it's the bloody commitment talk again! Moony's birthday party, two months ago," responded Lily, without missing a beat. "You introduced me to Moony's mum as 'a mutual old friend from school'."

"WOAH!" came James' voice. "That's partly true!"

"Bollocks!" she shouted again. It was her favorite word to use at times like these, despite Petunia's constant nagging that it wasn't becoming of a "lady". "You've got issues, Potter, and I don't know just how much longer I can put up with it!"

Lily stopped stomping round the bedroom as James appeared in the doorway. "Fine, why don't we just go ahead and get _married_ then, eh? They, I'll _have_ to introduce you as something other than an old school friend. Will that make you _happy, _Evans?"

The stresses on his words, oozing with sarcasm and resentment, seemed to slap Lily hard in the face. She stared at him, the anger seeping from the room and a frigid awkwardness replacing it. James shuffled his feet bashfully. Lily had never seen him bashful.

"You know… if you want to," he said, quietly. "Spring wedding, if you'd like. Or January, near your birthday?" He was improvising, hoping to charm. "Hell, we can go to Antarctica if you—"

"ANTARCTICA?"

The anger was back. "You – I – how can – I'd never…" Lily let out an odd noise, somewhere between a grunt and a scream, grabbed her suitcase, and pushed past him.

* * *

"And then, if you please, he suggests we go up to Antarctica to get married… can you believe that? ANTARCTICA?"

Severus Snape sat wide-eyed and slightly afraid in front of a fuming Lily. She had deposited her suitcase next to the door, stormed into his flat and started yelling about Potter.

He opened his mouth to speak, to wonder why she'd come to him. But Lily waved her hand, swatting his small voice away like a gnat. "I know we haven't spoken in a while, Sev, but I need this, all right? I need to vent." She breathed out heavily through her nose and glanced around his apartment. "Bit grim, this," she said, unabashed. "Cheery as a mummy museum."

Severus' apartment wasn't cosy and colorful, like Lily and James'. It was dusty and rather bare, ancient books, parchment, broken quills and ink bottles covering most surfaces. Snape watched her from a worn arm chair as though she were – not exactly a ghost, since he'd seen plenty – but something he had never thought he'd lay eyes on again. He had no idea what to say, so he said nothing. All he felt was a seething, undying happiness that she was in his house. Standing before him and estranged from Potter. It meant she was that much closer to being his.

Lily crossed to a pile of books that caught her eye. _Numerology and Grammatica_ lay atop the stack of books. She touched the cover and smiled. She remembered James chucking a copy of it at her in fourth year – as a response, she jinxed his legs together so he was forced to hop about the castle for the rest of the day. Another book beneath it displayed a suit of armor on the cover, almost identical to the one James had tried to lock her in the first week of second year. Not knowing much defensive magic, she gave him a bloody lip. Nostaligic, Lily chuckled.

Severus stared, transfixed though he was with her miracle presence, he couldn't fathom why his old school books would be cheering her up.

"It was all because he liked me," Lily whispered, her lips barely moving. "All of it…"

So what if he didn't propose perfectly? He'd never been able to share his feelings about her, never been able to channel of his emotions properly. But she loved him anyway. He was so messy and spontaneous and unfiltered… that's what she loved most. He had asked her to marry him. And because it was terrible, it was wonderful.

"What am I doing here?" she said, looking up from the books, her voice breaking the silence. "I've got a wedding to plan!" She whipped around and Severus' breath caught in his chest. It was still as though he was drinking the sight of her in, unable to focus on much else.

Lily swept over to him and bent down. Her lips pressed into his bony, pallid cheek. "Thank you, Sev," she whispered, her nose mere inches from his. Before he could close the distance between their mouths, she had gone.


End file.
